Truth Hurts
by Goddess Isa
Summary: This is probably the start of something bigger. Veronica gets some honesty from Dick of all places.
1. Chapter 1

I've been staring at the same photos for two hours, trying to figure out the identity of a package thief. It's not a good case, it's not even a case really, but it's a distraction, which is what I need right now.

Dad's at lunch with Cliff, giving me the space that I keep telling him I need even though I'm not sure what I need. I finished my coffee and was headed for the bathroom when my phone rang.

I was shocked to see Nicole's number on my caller ID. She hadn't come to the funeral, not that I was surprised. We hadn't spoken since I confessed to bugging her office.

"Nicole," I tried to sound normal. I wasn't sure though what normal was anymore. "Hi."

"This isn't a social call," her voice was clipped. "Your…._friend_," she said the word with a pointed sarcasm, "Dick is here, drunk off his ass, high as a kite and seconds away from destroying the place."

The old Veronica might have made a joke that she was already destroying it. Or suggested she call the police. Most likely I would've corrected her that Dick wasn't a friend at all. He was a cloud of booze and scene queens that was the only family Logan had.

The New and Miserable Veronica though, somehow was concerned for Logan's oldest friend. "I'll be right there." I scribbled a note for my dad and headed for the bar.

Logan's bike was a pain in the ass. I don't know why he liked riding it around. I'd thought about selling it, or trashing it, or burning it, but like his underwear and protein powder, I couldn't get rid of anything that was his. Not yet.

When I walked into Comrade Quack's, it was fairly empty except for a few working girls at the bar and Dick. Nicole was nowhere to be found.

Dick was slumped on a stool at a high top, empty bottles and shot glasses covering the table. He was tossing darts at the wall rather than a board, and there was a number of misses scattered on the floor.

"You look like you could use a tequila," I said, sitting on a stool across from him.

"You know what I look like?" Dick picked up an empty shot glass and tried to drink from it. "I look like someone who's lost everything." He took the bucket of darts-that would explain why there were so many all over the place- from his lap and plunked it on the table, sending shot glasses flying to the floor. He grabbed a couple darts and I leaned over as he began chucking them at the wall.

"I've lost my whole family," he threw one that stuck in the wall a few feet away. "My mom," Dick threw another that didn't make it past the table. "My brother," he threw two this time, both hit the wall and then the floor. "My dad," Dick went to throw a dart but his hand was empty. He reached for the same empty shot glass and tried to drink it again. "And now Logan."

"Come on," I reached for his arm. "I'll get you an Uber."

He yanked away from me and grabbed some more darts. I was out of the line of fire entirely this time as he hurled them at the wall.

"I don't remember my password. Logan was good at that shit," he found a beer bottle with a swig left in it and downed it. "Logan would've called me an Uber. He always did the right thing." he glared at me. "Didn't he Ronnie?"

I wanted to knock his ass right off the stool, but it seemed unfair given our shared grief. So I reached for his arm again. "Dick. You should go home."

"We were drinking," Dick dropped the darts he was holding to the floor. "We were drinking and he told me you said yes. You were getting married. Mr. and Mrs. Echolls. Happily ever after, eh? How'd that work out?"

I found myself wishing there was alcohol in one of those glasses and walked to the bar to get a shot. When I went back to Dick, he was throwing the darts at the ceiling. He had better aim for that than for the wall.

"He didn't invite me," Dick emptied the dart bucket and called out to the room for more darts and another drink. "Told me you were keeping it small and that he understood I was grieving." he faced me now, and I wasn't sure if his eyes were glassy and bloodshot or if there were actual tears.

"You should've invited me. I would've thrown a party. Somewhere classier than this joint," he gestured to the room. "I would've gotten him pissing drunk and he'd still be here."

"Dick."

"You know I'm right."

"Screw you." I was done. Logan's friend or not, I was done with this shit. I walked back to the bar, paid for my shot and used my app to get him an Uber. I wasn't sure I cared if he got in it or wandered into oncoming traffic.


	2. Chapter 2

Three days later, Veronica was napping on Keith's couch, Pony at her feet, when her phone rang. She blinked at the display. Why was the Neptune PD calling?

"What?" She answered, annoyed. Pony raised her head and shared an annoyed sound of her own, she hated to have her naps disturbed.

"Veronica, it's Norris."

She sat up and ran a hand through her hair. Normally Veronica would've said something snarky, but she didn't have the energy. "What is it, Norris?"

"Um, I'm calling about Dick Casablancas."

"Did he OD?" Veronica couldn't help giggling. It wasn't funny, but there was something almost poetic about Dick wanting to die and find Logan in the afterlife. Not that they were going to the same place but Dick was too stupid to know that. He probably pictured them surfing and sleeping with every dead coed in Heaven.

"No, no! He got a DUI and you're his emergency contact. He paid his bail already, but he's gonna have to sleep it off in a cell unless you wanna come pick him up."

"I am _not_ Dick's emergency contact, am I?"

She heard Norris take a deep breath. "You're number three, okay? One and two are….unavailable."

Veronica swallowed hard, thinking about Logan. She knew he would pick Dick up in a second. And he'd want her to do the same thing.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes." It was nearly dinnertime and her stomach was growling. She'd slept for hours on the couch. Veronica figured she could grab a burger to pick at on the way back, she guessed. Her dad would feed the dog.

She got off the couch, disturbing Pony again, and scribbled a note to her dad before grabbing the keys to her dad's old car. It was a piece of crap but it was in the garage and hopefully would start.

* * *

The PD felt off as Veronica strode in. She'd been there enough and knew where Dick would be waiting. Norris was standing at the door to the holding cells and pulled it open for her.

"You can't miss him, he's dressed like Superman and smells like a distillery."

"Lovely." Veronica was very, very glad she didn't have Logan's Beemer.

His BMW. He loved that car.

She forced the tears back, walked right over to Dick and kicked him in the shin.

"Ow! What the fuck—" his eyes focused and he leaned against the wall, surprised. "Ronnie?"

"Get your ass up!" She threatened to kick him again and he started moving. They followed Norris to the desk, collected Dick's phone and wallet, signed forms and headed outside.

"Aw, man, it's daylight?" Dick pulled the cape he was wearing over his eyes.

"That's what the bright yellow thing shining through the windows was," Veronica rolled her eyes. She unlocked her dad's car and told him to get in.

"But….your car….."

Damn him, Dick was drunk but he wasn't as stupid as Veronica thought. "It's my dad's car. Get in or you can walk home."

Dick got in, rolled the window all the way down and fell asleep.

"Great," Veronica muttered. She considered playing something like the Backstreet Boys as loudly as the vehicle would allow but she didn't think she could bear songs of giddy love right now, so she left the car silent. She was so, so grateful that Dick had moved out of the beautiful beach house he'd shared with Logan. Veronica didn't think she could handle being anywhere near that place right now. She and Logan had been so happy there. That was possibly the happiest two weeks of her life and she couldn't revisit it today, maybe not ever.

Dick's Hollywood Hills condo looked exactly how she'd imagined it. She'd never actually been there since he often rented a room at the Grand when he was in town. Logan had been a few times though, and commented that the place felt like TLC's "Red Light Special" should be playing when you walked through the door.

Veronica forced the memory of his grin—and his off-key rendition of the song before chasing her into their bedroom—out of her mind and walked around to the passenger side of the car.

She threw the door open and kicked Dick again, not as hard this time. "Get up, Jerkwad. I'm like ninety pounds, I'm not pulling your drunk ass out of the car."

Dick stirred and eventually got up. Veronica wanted to leave him there but she knew Logan would never have done that so she followed him to the front door.

He felt his pockets and groaned. "I don't have keys. There's a spare on the wind chime."

Veronica didn't know why she helped him but she looked at the chime, thinking it was an odd thing for Dick to own. A closer inspection showed her that the dangling metal pieces were shaped like naked women. Not so odd after all.

She let them in and hung by the door, immediately seeing what Logan had meant.

The place felt dirty. It didn't smell much better—though no place would, left vacant for months at a time—and there were legit red lights lining the hallway she assumed led to Dick's bedroom.

"You gonna be ok?" She asked Dick even though she didn't care. Logan would've cared. She was here for Logan.

Dick shrugged. He plopped onto one of his couches and sighed. "How can I be okay? How are you ok?"

"I'm not."

"Come on, Ronnie. You and I, we're both beyond fucked right now. The difference is I'm dealing with it."

Veronica wanted to tell him that she was dealing, thank you, but she absolutely wasn't. She was a mess, hiding and trying to avoid everything so she wouldn't have to hurt.

There was no avoiding the hurt though, and she wondered if Dick felt any better being plastered. It didn't seem like it.

"Do you have any vodka?" she asked.

He pointed to the bar in the corner. She poured herself a generous drink and got Dick a water.

"This won't help," Dick said, but he drank it anyway.

Veronica plopped down next to him and pulled out her phone. She looked at her work email account, looking for a case she could use to escape the hell that was her life.

Dick was snoring again, softer this time. Veronica wanted to leave but didn't feel she could. She grabbed the tv remote and left it louder than she probably should have. _Scream_ was on, and Veronica thought a horror movie fit things perfectly. She never really understood why they showed scary movies all year long. It didn't seem appropriate to her, but she let herself get sucked in anyway because what else was she gonna do?

It was a marathon, she found out, on regular cable so all the curse words were either blurted out or covered with horribly ridiculous substitutes. Eventually _Scream_ became _Scream 2_. At some point, she fell asleep and woke up during _Scream 3_. Her bladder was screaming so she wandered around until she found the bathroom.

Dick was a slob. The counter was loaded with products, dirty towels, joints. As she washed her hands, Veronica was filled with anger that Dick lived this useless lifestyle, and he was alive. Logan turned himself into a hero, and he was dead.

Back in the living room, Dick was still snoring. Veronica let herself watch Scott Foley kill Jenny McCarthy with the smallest wound ever recorded in a horror movie and drifted off again.

This time when she woke up, Dick was up too. She'd slept all the way through _Scream 4_ and now _Scream_ was on again, muted. A plate of nachos and a beer sat on the coffee table in front of her.

"Friends don't let friends drink alone," Dick said, his own nachos nearly eaten.

"We're not friends," Veronica said firmly before digging into the nachos. She may have hated Dick, but a girl's gotta eat.

"We're friends, Ronnie. We're all we have left."

Veronica wanted to correct him. She had her dad and Wallace and Mac and Pony.

But he looked so broken, so young and miserable sitting there that she couldn't let herself say it. She thought for a single minute that Logan would appreciate that.

"You gotta get yourself together, Dick," is what she said.

He shrugged and took a drink of his beer. "I haven't been sober since they found my dad. I can't imagine being sober ever again."

"You'll have to stop drinking eventually. The hookers don't like it when you puke on them."

Dick didn't even acknowledge what she said. "Everything that's gone on? I've leaned on Logan. That shit with Beaver, my dad on the run, my dad in prison, my DUI, pregnancy scares, I always had him. And now I've got nothing."

Veronica was at a loss for words. After a few minutes, she said, "This wasn't your first DUI?"

"Third," Dick finished his beer and reached for Veronica's untouched one. "I woulda thought you would've asked about the pregnancy scares."

"Okay, tell me about them."

Dick let out a disgusting belch. "One wasn't a scare."

This was news to her. "Dick….."

"Her name is Ellie. She lives in Chicago with her mother. I've never met her-Ellie's mom…...she doesn't want me around. I send her money and she leaves me alone," he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Look at her."

Veronica expected a baby but the photo was of a five or six year old child. This would've happened before she and Logan got back together. That explained why she didn't know about her. Ellie was Dick's secret to share, not Logan's, and Veronica realized she wasn't mad that Logan had kept this from her.

She also wondered if this knowledge, that Dick had a child whose life he wasn't a part of, was why he seemed so eager to start a family lately. Logan hadn't said it, not outright, but she'd seen it on his face when they were at Wallace's. The reality that they would never get to have that conversation started to weigh on her. She pushed it away and focused on Dick's daughter.

"She's adorable," Veronica said automatically.

"Looks nothing like me, thank God. She's better off without me."

"You don't know that," Veronica said, because what else was there to say?

"No, I really do," he took a swig of beer. "I'm not parent material. Now Logan? Logan would've made a great dad."

Veronica cursed under her breath. "Now I need a drink," she wandered to the bar and found another bottle of Vodka—she'd emptied the one earlier—but it was marshmallow flavored. Logan had gotten her a bottle once, mostly as a joke. It was really too sweet but she'd made floats with it on lonely nights while he was deployed. She needed a drink, but not a sweet, sentimental one. She poured two whiskeys, not thinking about the irony in giving one to someone who was fresh off a DUI, and returned to the couch.

"To Logan," Dick took his glass and clanked it against hers. "I hate him for leaving me but I miss him like crazy."

Veronica couldn't talk so she just nodded and drank. When her glass was empty, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself.

"Dick," she said finally, "I need you to get yourself the fuck together. If you let the grief consume you…..you'd be letting Logan down. And Ellie, too," she added for good measure. "I don't really know what to do with myself but I'm not gonna fall apart, because that's not fair to Logan. He pulled himself together and we have to, too."

"He did it for you," Dick said. "Everything he ever did, was for you."

Veronica wished for another drink but she needed a clear—or clearish—head to say this. "I know that," she admitted. "Now it's our turn to do it for him."

"What's the point? He's not here."

"Do it for her, then," Veronica pointed to his phone on the table, still displaying Ellie's photo.

"I'll try," Dick said without any confidence.

"You have to," Veronica stood up. "I can't carry the guilt of both your deaths."

She left then, but instead of getting in her car, she left her shoes beside it and walked down to the beach. It felt foreign to have sand beneath her toes. She sat down, dug her hands in the sand, and started screaming.

She screamed at Logan for leaving her, at God for taking him from her. She screamed at Dick for no reason, and at herself for letting Penn beat her. When she had no voice left, she settled for crying. After an hour, the sun coming up, she made herself stand up, brush the sand off, drive back to her dad's.

She didn't have a home of her own anymore, but she couldn't let herself fall apart. She had to keep going, for Logan. And she guessed she had to be around in case Dick got arrested again.

Her dad was waiting up for her when she came in. She poured a cup of coffee and sat across the island from him. "Waiting up for me?"

"I wanted to see the sunrise," he yawned.

"Dick's home, sobering up."

"I cannot believe you bailed him out."

"Oh I didn't. He paid his own bail, I just drove him home, told him to get his shit together."

"Think it'll work?"

She shrugged. "As well as it did when Logan would tell him."

Keith started to say "You can't save everyone," but caught himself and instead went with, "He might not want your help, honey."

"I still have to try."

There was a lot unsaid between them, about Dick. Veronica felt she had to help him for Logan, and Keith knew it but didn't agree with it. He didn't like Dick and didn't trust him.

Veronica set her cup down. "I'm going for a run."

"Haven't you been up all night?"

"I'm okay," she kissed his cheek and left out the front door. The neighborhood was quiet and desolate, so Veronica felt it was ok to cry as she ran. She only let herself crack when no one could see.

Back at her dad's, she showered, walked Pony, and got in bed. Just as she was drifting off, her phone buzzed.

"Thnks," Dick's text read.

She didn't respond, because her first thought was to be snarky, to warn him not to have a next time. But she knew there would be one, and she knew she'd help him, every time.

Logan would've, because Dick was his family, and Logan was her family, which made Dick hers by extension.

Veronica sighed. She would've rather had a pony.


End file.
